


Of Fate and Fireflies

by Shadecat



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadecat/pseuds/Shadecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes almost losing him for Arthur to realise how much Merlin is worth to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Fate and Fireflies

Arthur prodded at the haphazard pile of burning logs, sparks flaring up to leave soot marks on the low ceiling of the cave. He shivered in his underclothes as he sat on the dirt floor, his eyes flicking over to see the grim line of Merlin’s lips as he stood by the mouth of the small cavern and wrung the worst of the water from their sopping garments. “Stop it,” he snapped at his servant’s form.

Merlin scowled over at him as he twisted Arthur’s tunic into a thick rope and squeezed. “Stop what?”

“Stop thinking the multitude of treasonous insults at me.”

“My thoughts are my own and I can think what I please,” Merlin snapped back, “...sire.”

“Not when I can practically _hear_ you.” Arthur gave an especially enthusiastic prod to the logs, causing one of them to roll out of the protective ring and over towards Merlin.

Merlin squawked as the burning wood hit his naked foot. He quickly kicked it out of the cave and into the outlying woods, where it sizzled and hissed as the rain warred for dominance with the flames. With a last hiss and a wisp of steam, the rain won. Merlin whirled on Arthur, who was sitting by the fire, mouth open in an ‘o’ of surprise. “You weren’t satisfied to nearly _drown_ me, now you’re trying to set me on _fire_?”

“It was an _accident_ , Merlin.” Arthur said, eyes dropping to the stick in his hand.

“An _accident_?” Merlin dropped the wet tunic and faced Arthur with his hands on his hips and outrage on his face. “You _accidentally_ mistook a firefly for a torch? The great and mighty hunter, Prince Arthur of Camelot, couldn’t discern a bug from _fire_? Then you _accidentally_ lead us headfirst into a raging river, causing our horses _with our equipment_ to abandon us on the opposite side of said raging river and leaving us in a torrential storm with no equipment, no mounts and miles from the nearest village? Did you also _accidentally_ bash yourself in the head when I wasn’t looking? Because I believe that might explain this streak of _accidents_ you’re having.”

Arthur could feel the blood rise to his face. “You’re making it sound worse than it is.”

Merlin threw his hands up over his head. “Oh, am I? Did I perhaps embellish the retelling? Was that _not_ a raging river that I swallowed half of? Are we _not_ stranded in a dank and cold cave with only the sopping wet clothes on our backs?”

“We have _some_ supplies, Merlin.” Arthur dropped the stick and stood defensively against the barrage of today’s faults being flung in his face.

Merlin snorted. “We have my satchel that I barely managed to cling to, the contents of which are _also_ soaking wet; a state that doesn’t seem to agree with the bread rolls, if the sludge I scooped out is anything to go by.”

Arthur wiped a hand over his face to keep from clenching it into a fist, “What do you want from me, Merlin? An apology? I’m terribly and atrociously sorry that all of this happened, especially since you can’t seem to shut up about it. That’s the part I’m the most sorry for; your inability to be a mute.”

“For the love of-” Merlin flung his arm back towards the mouth of the cave. “I _was_ being mute, _sire_. I was quite happily keeping my thoughts to myself until _you_ decided that I was _thinking_ too loud. Of all the prattish things to complain about, _you_ had to pick the most asinine one.”

Arthur walked over to stand almost toe-to-toe with Merlin. “Are you calling me asinine?”

Merlin’s lips thinned as he glared back at Arthur. “If the description fits...”

Arthur’s hand came up to fist in the sodden fabric of Merlin’s under tunic. “If I were you, _Merlin_ , I’d think _very_ carefully before I finished that sentence.”

There was a spark of something in Merlin’s eyes before he opened his mouth, “Or what, ass – I mean, _sire_?”

Arthur gave a tug to the material in his hand, pulling Merlin closer to him. His eyes took in the pallor of Merlin’s skin, the faint trembling that shook his frame and the blossoming bruises along his arms from the pummelling they’d both taken during their impromptu swim. A bluish smudge was beginning to colour the edge of Merlin’s jaw, bleeding down from the darker mark on his cheekbone. Arthur’s mind flashed to the images of earlier, both of them being swept down the river – Arthur fervently thanking Merlin for convincing him not to take his chainmail on this outing, otherwise he’d likely have sunk to the bottom by now. The surrounding area being lit by frequent lightning strikes, showing Arthur flashes of Merlin’s face contorted in fear before he was sucked back under the water. The wrenching coughs in his ear as Merlin lay beside him on the muddy riverbank, trying to rid his lungs of the river water and to relearn to breathe air. Merlin’s fingers ghosting over his body, checking for any injuries while he ignored his own; thin frame shaking from shock and cold.

The trembling of Merlin against the hand clenching his under tunic brought him back to the here and now. Arthur felt his anger dissolve, leaving only a sense of gratitude that they were both alive and relatively unharmed. Pulling Merlin with him, Arthur dragged him over to the circle of warmth being given off by the fire. “Sit down, idiot.”

Merlin frowned in confusion but gratefully sunk down beside the flames, hands out and rubbing briskly together. “I suppose this is further proof of my theory that you’ve bashed yourself in the head when I wasn’t looking. You’re making even less sense than you normally do – not that you make much sense. Ever.”

And just like that, the tension between the two men was gone. Arthur smirked and chuffed Merlin on the back of the head before sitting beside him and holding his own hands out to the welcoming heat. Arthur let that roll in his head; the fact that that was just the way it was between them. There was always a game of wit and one-upmanship being played by the two men, but on the rare occasion where real anger was brought in, one of them always conceded and it was like it never was. And it wasn’t always Merlin. Arthur mulled over how many times he’d been willing to be the one to give in, to acknowledge his faults, to a _servant_. Arthur frowned at that thought. No, not to a servant; to a friend. His best friend, if he was willing to be honest with himself.

Since the first day they’d met, Merlin had refused to step into the neat little box Arthur had of ‘How the World Worked’. He’d run roughshod over the line of ‘Master and Servant’, and Arthur had let him. And therein lay the rub. Something about Merlin had Arthur letting him get away with things that would have landed any other servant in the dungeons – or worse. Arthur’s gaze flicked over to Merlin’s hands, still rubbing together in front of the dancing flames. Merlin still shivered, toes curling against the ground as he tried to control it. “Oh for pity’s sake,” Arthur said, grumbling as he stood and walked over to his cloak. Merlin had spread it near the far side of the flames earlier, hoping to have it dried out for when Arthur slept.

Arthur ignored another confused frown thrown his way as he tugged it down and brought it back to where he’d been sitting beside Merlin. He sat back down, shuffling closer to Merlin’s body as he made to wrap the cloak around both of them. “What are you-” Merlin started, but was silenced when Arthur’s arm grabbed his shoulder and pulled him closer.

“We’ll warm up more quickly this way. I’m cold and the sound of your teeth chattering is getting on my nerves.” Arthur tucked the cloak more firmly around Merlin and concentrated on warm memories. Training in the middle of summer. Sprawling in his chair in front of his blazing fireplace. Being curled up under a decadent amount of blankets in his huge and deliciously comfortable bed. What he wouldn’t give to be curled up in his bed right now.

He felt Merlin’s shivering begin to slow and felt him relax against him more. “Arthur?”

“What?”

“Thank you,” said Merlin, in that tone that he used that Arthur couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t _meekness_ , but it was something soft. Both men sat there and listened to the rain beating down on the outside world, accompanied by the occasional crackle and pop of the burning logs.

Arthur’s eye was drawn to a spark that danced lazily against the ceiling. It was larger than the other sparks and refused to dissipate against the ceiling like the rest. He watched as a second dancing spark joined it, then a third and fourth. He snorted and shook his head. “Of course,” he said.

Merlin turned his head to him, “Of course what?”

Arthur nudged his head up to the ceiling. “Bloody fireflies.”

Merlin looked up and saw the now two dozen fireflies flitting against the top of the cave. Then he laughed.

“I fail to see the humour in this, Merlin.” Arthur’s mouth twitched as he ignored the insects.

“Oh _come on_ , Arthur. Look, it’s a village’s worth of torches, come to guide us to safety.” Merlin nudged Arthur with his shoulder.

“Shut up.”

“Look on the bright side, Arthur. At least we’re not going to go running headfirst into another river trying to catch them.” Merlin chuckled.

Arthur had another flash of Merlin in the river, struggling to keep his head up, eyes locked on Arthur. He felt his stomach roil at the thought of what _could_ have been. He turned and stared at Merlin. “Shut up,” he bit out.

Merlin’s smile fell at Arthur’s tone. “I was kidding, Arthur.”

“You... you almost died. You were right, this is all my fault and I almost got you killed and I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was cold and angry and wet and I just wanted to be home and you were right, we should have stayed at the first village, but my pride got in the way. You were almost killed because of my bloody pride and,” Arthur’s throat tightened, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Merlin.” Arthur dropped his head and closed his eyes.

He felt a hand cup the back of his neck as fingers worked up and through his hair to rub at his scalp. “Don’t, Arthur. I’m fine. We’re _both_ fine. Please, don’t.”

Arthur lifted his head and stared at Merlin, eyes pained. “But you could have-”

“ _Could_ have, Arthur. Not did. I’m right here and I’m fine.” Merlin’s voice was low and placating, his fingers still trying to soothe.

Arthur brought a hand up and brushed a thumb lightly over the bruise on Merlin’s cheek. “Not entirely.”

Merlin’s hand stilled for a heartbeat before they continued their stroking. “I can live with a few bruises.” His voice was still low with an added rasp.

Arthur found it fascinating. “Does it hurt?” He continued to trace gently over the mark.

Merlin’s tongue flicked out to wet his suddenly dry lips. “No.”

Arthur’s eyes tracked the movement of Merlin’s tongue. “Good.”

Time stuttered around them as they sat cocooned together under Arthur’s cloak; Merlin’s hand twined in Arthur’s hair and Arthur stroking Merlin’s face. Neither could tell later what made them do it; could have been the breath caught in Merlin’s throat, or the darkening of Arthur’s eyes, or possibly because Fate had decided that the coin needed to be joined. Either way, between one heartbeat and the next they went from friends to something different; something _more_.

Merlin’s mouth was pressed to Arthur’s, lips hesitant as they touched. Arthur sucked in a quick breath through his nose before tilting his head for a better angle. His thumb gave one last brush before he moved his hand down, running over Merlin’s chest and around to his back. Merlin’s hand tightened in Arthur’s hair, his body turning towards Arthur’s as he licked against his lips. Arthur made a muffled groan before opening his mouth, tongue seeking Merlin’s. They met and slid together, each wanting to explore the other fully. Merlin’s other hand came up to grab at Arthur’s shoulder, pulling him eagerly against his own body. Arthur had to stifle another groan as the desire to press Merlin down against the ground began to pulse through him.

Pulling back, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes; taking in Merlin’s reddened lips and the flush that was high on his cheeks. Merlin’s eyes opened and Arthur’s hand tightened on Merlin’s back as he stared at the two barely perceptible rings of blue; Merlin’s pupil’s blown wide with lust and need. Arthur groaned again. “I swear you’re going to be the death of me.”

Merlin bit his lip and dropped his eyes. “You started it.” He peeked up at Arthur through his lashes.

Arthur took a bracing breath. “You have to make everything so difficult, don’t you?”

Merlin’s lips twisted into a grin. “I thought I was being quite amenable.”

“Precisely. _Too_ amenable. I’m trying _not_ to throw you down and ravish you on the dirty floor of a freezing cold cave and you’re making that difficult.”

Merlin’s grin turned wicked. “Do you see me complaining?”

Arthur stifled another groan. “You’re evil. Absolutely evil. Sent here by some demonic... _thing_ to torment me to death.”

Merlin moved closer, tilting his head to kiss the side of Arthur’s neck. He dragged his tongue along damp skin until he reached Arthur’s ear. He nipped gently on the lobe, breath hot against it as he said, “Shut up, prat.”

Arthur shivered before he turned and recaptured Merlin’s mouth with his own, arms wrapping tightly around him as he pressed their bodies together. The cold was completely forgotten as they both continued to generate their own heat, stoking their flames with every touch.

As the fire lowered and the storm lessened, their entwined shadows were illuminated against the stone from both the light of the fire and the flickering light of the swarm of fireflies; fireflies that when morning broke and the sunlight began to encroach inside to wake the sleeping pair, melded into the rock face to disappear back to the realm they’d been summoned from. Sometimes, when certain people are being difficult and almost purposefully obtuse, a little push is all that’s needed. Even Fate has limits on its patience; limits that a certain prince and a certain warlock consistently test. Fortunately for said prince and warlock, Fate was not above getting its fingers dirty to move things along, thank you very much.

~End~


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